Today is the 85th anniversary of that triumph of history, the Munich Agreement, which allowed Hitler to keep a chunk of Czechoslovakia in return for a promise not to invade anywhere else. Here’s how Chips Channon greeted the news in his diary
Remarkably, even though dictators are known for their trustworthiness, and are definitely worth negotiating with, because they always act in good faith, the agreement didn’t last and World War II started the following year.
We might have known that would happen had we not listened at the time to voices like those of Channon, and instead given an ear to French poet and diplomat Alexis Leger, who was strolling through the streets of Munich while ‘Chips’ was tucked safely up in bed in London.
Alexis had a rather different take on the matter. According to historian Leonard Mosley’s On Borrowed Time: How World War II Began, Leger was discussing the matter with assistant air attaché Paul Stehlin as they walked back to their hotel at 3am:
Stehlin knew as well as Léger the tragedy implicit in the agreement. He had served in Prague, and he knew and liked the Czechs and admired their esprit, the caliber of their weapons and soldiers, the strength of their defenses, above all their value as allies of France. But though downcast at losing all this, he was still a victim of the euphoria of the moment. Realizing the consequences for France and for Europe of this bloodless defeat, he still believed that it had all been for the best that at this juncture France could not have fought and won. Though its implications were plain, Munich had its brighter side; for the moment, it had avoided the war which he, like every Frenchman, feared.
“Mais enfin,” he said to Léger, “l’agrément, c’est un soulagement.” (Anyway, this agreement is a relief.)
Léger was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Ah oui, un soulagement! Comme quand on a merdé dans sa culotte.” (Oh yes, a relief! Like crapping in your pants.)
History seems to have proved that it was a good analogy.
(Leonard Mosley, incidentally — and intriguingly — although he had the middle name Oswald, was no relation of the baronet Oswald Mosley who was mates with Hitler. Which was probably a good thing, given that he wrote a biography of Göring. Necessary impartiality and all that.)
And…
It’s also the 17th anniversary of billionaire art collector (not that there are many other varieties of art collector) Steve Wynn showing off the Picasso he’d just sold for a (then) record $139m, and — while gesticulating at the masterpiece — putting his elbow through it.
One of the people in the room at the time was Nora Ephron, who — as you might imagine — wrote easily the most entertaining version of the story.
Steve Wynn launched into a long story about the painting — he told us that it was a painting of Picasso’s mistress, Marie-Therese Walter, that it was extremely erotic, and that if you looked at it carefully (which I did, for the first time, although I’d seen it before at the Bellagio) you could see that the head of Marie-Therese was divided in two sections and that one of them was a penis. This was not a good moment for me vis a vis the painting. In fact, I would have to say that it made me pretty much think I wouldn’t pay five dollars for it.
It’s true, too. It does a bit.
Mr Wynn offers this interpretation of the eroticism:
…if you are a 51-year-old man and you have a 21-year-old girlfriend, the fantasy is Picasso’s, not hers. Any 51-year-old man would be wishing or hoping that she was dreaming of his body parts. If you take this view, a more appropriate title would be Prendre ses désires pour des réalités, translated as Wishful Thinking.
So, physically clumsy he may be, but he has more insight than some of the other billionaires one might mention.
